Losing or keeping it alive within?

I tried to learn how to live without you. Every time I opened my eyes, I wanted to accept that life was continuing from where it left off. Mornings still brightened without you, roads stretched ahead without you. But inside me, no day ever truly began. Days kept passing, yet I remained in the same place.

I thought time’s relentless flow would make me forget. That when days started to resemble each other, when life swept me along, your absence would somehow become an ordinary part of life. But it didn’t. Time doesn’t heal some wounds, some voids can’t be filled, and some absences can’t be accepted.

I couldn’t manage to live without you.

So, is this a defeat?

Absence and habit

They say people can get used to anything—loss, pain, longing… But some voids are so deep that even if one thinks they have adapted, they always carry an emptiness inside. Your absence never became a habit. Waking up in the morning and feeling the void, keeping count of the days we didn’t talk, holding back from saying your name… These never turned into something I could get used to.

I was used to living with you. Your presence was as natural and necessary as breathing. That’s why learning to live without you felt like rebuilding life from scratch. Like learning a new language, getting lost in a foreign city, and feeling utterly alone in a world I didn’t recognise.

Your absence never became my reality. I had to accept it, but I could never internalise it. When people are forced to let go of the things they once thought they couldn’t live without, they continue to exist. But is that really living, or just letting time pass?

Sometimes, I learnt to stay silent; sometimes I kept the pain inside. But acceptance is different from getting used to something. And I never got used to it.

Can love be a defeat?

Sometimes I wonder—was failing to live without you truly a defeat? Must a person always be strong? Is forgetting, moving on, accepting loss, and carving a new path what it means to win? If so, then yes, I lost. Because without you, I was never whole. Because there was always something missing inside me.

But maybe love also means accepting defeat. Sometimes, there is meaning in loss. Love is not something that is only measured by victory. Sometimes, even when lost, love continues to grow inside. Sometimes, the greatest love is not in leaving but in choosing to stay—in the heart that never lets go.

Love has no winners or losers. As long as it exists, it remains powerful. If I couldn’t forget you, if I couldn’t manage to live without you, perhaps this isn’t my greatest defeat but my greatest triumph. Because you still exist within me.

Maybe our paths have diverged, maybe our words were left unfinished, maybe our story remains incomplete. But the time I spent with you was more real than the time I have spent without you. And perhaps, that is why learning to live without you has been so difficult.

Escaping from absence

I don’t know how many times I tried to take refuge in other things—a song, a book, a morning, a night… I kept myself busy, I exhausted myself, and sometimes I even silenced myself. But a person hears the storm inside them most clearly when they are silent.

Your absence is sometimes the echoing quietness of a room. Sometimes, it is stopping just before accidentally saying your name. Sometimes, it is looking away when I see something that reminds me of you. But no matter what I did, the emptiness inside remained.

People are good at deceiving themselves. I told myself, "I’m getting used to it,""Time heals everything." But something inside me never believed those words. Because getting used to your absence would have meant giving up on myself. Forgetting the moments I lived with you, acting as if I had never loved you… I couldn’t do that.

Maybe the greatest escape was accepting the truth. I can’t do this without you. Life goes on, but I don’t feel the same way about anything anymore.

A journey with no return?

Sometimes I wonder—if I had learnt how to live without you, what would have changed? Would I have suffered less? Would it have been easier? But then I realised that everything I experienced with you taught me who I am. Loving you meant accepting not just your presence but also your absence.

Learning to live without you would have meant letting go of you. But I never gave up on carrying you within me. Not as a memory, not as a habit—but as something real.

And perhaps, that is why I failed to live without you: because some loves become engraved in a person’s soul. They are not forgotten, erased, or lost. They live on somewhere, always. And that is not a defeat.

It only means that I still love you.

Did I lose?

If winning means forgetting, if being strong means moving on, if true victory means never looking back—then yes, I lost. But can a person truly be considered a loser when they have loved?

Perhaps the greatest defeat is never having loved at all. Perhaps the real loss is never longing for anything. And perhaps true strength is being able to love someone even in their absence.

I couldn’t manage to live without you. But maybe I was never meant to. Because sometimes, love is only meaningful as long as it continues to exist. And if I still love you, if I still carry you within me, maybe I haven’t lost anything after all.

Because some loves do not fade with distance, are not erased with time, and do not end with separation.

I couldn’t do it without you… But maybe this is not my greatest defeat—it is my greatest truth.

With Love and Respect,

Burak Anaturk.

Burak Anaturk is a professional civil engineer. He focuses on sharing lessons from his life experiences, exploring diverse perspectives, and discussing personal development topics.
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